Chapter VII: From the Laboring Classes (1)

After a week had passed in her aunt's well-ordered household, Margaret received a few ceremonious calls from the ladies of Shellbeach and Sealing, which, in the course of another week, she returned with due formality with her aunt. The visiting acquaintance of Miss Spelman at Shellbeach consisted of a few elderly ladies, of whom Margaret saw but little during her visit, though they were kind and cordial, and always gave her a pleasant welcome to their houses.

There was one caller, however, of whom Margaret was destined to see a good deal, and who deserves a more particular description. She was a lady who might have been between forty and fifty, who came walking into the house without ringing, one windy evening, in rubber boots, with which she had been making herself a path in the newly fallen snow. She was tall and thin, with heavy eye-brows, and rather masculine bearing and manners, but a very genial smile beamed on her lips and in her eyes. Her voice was loud but cheerful, and she gave Margaret a warm squeeze of the hand and a good, steady look in the eye, that seemed to show she was disposed for friendliness.

"Well now, Martha," said Miss Spelman, helping her guest off with hood and cloak, and wheeling up a comfortable chair for her to the fire, "where have you been all this long time? And how are you and your poor old father? How does the house stand this cold winter, and how are you getting along altogether?"

The visitor seated herself in the chair, tucked up her plain brown gown over her knees, and clasped her rough, strong-looking hands, seeming to enjoy the cheery blaze; then she answered rather slowly,

"We are very well off, thank you, Miss Spelman. Father's about the same as usual; he misses the garden now the snow has come. The house is pretty tight, and I keep the fires going with Norah's help. You know Dr. James got Norah for us, and a more willing, good-natured creature I never wish to see. She really seems to have brought sunshine into the house, and says, 'May the queen of heaven send you good health, sir!' and, 'May the blessed saints look out for you, Miss Martha!' quite in the old-country fashion."

"I don't know about Irish help," said Miss Spelman; "I never can get along with them. I haven't had one these ten years, since my poor old Bridget died; and then they're always so set about getting to church, and dreadfully put out if they are prevented now and then."

"Do you think so? Well, Norah says to me, 'I dearly love to go to holy Mass, and to pay my respects on the saints' days; but the priest tells me to mind my duty in the house first, and I wouldn't feel easy to go and leave that poor lamb (one of her names for my father) with none to look after his dinner.'"

"Well, long may she prove a treasure, that's all," and the old lady shook her head doubtfully.

"You've come to a pretty place, Miss Lester," said Martha Burney; "it's pretty enough now, with its fresh white dress of snow; but I don't know what you'll say to it when the young green comes out, and the birds begin to sing. But what do you find to do with yourself?"

"Nothing very useful yet. I have given my attention principally to coasting; I have got a new sled, and have found some charming coasts about here. I go out before breakfast."

"Bless me! how many ages is it, I wonder, since I did that?" cried Miss Burney. "Then you do not keep late hours in the morning?"

"I did at first, through force of habit; but now I have an alarm-clock, and try getting up at six, and dressing without a fire."

"Very well, very well indeed, for a New Yorker! Ah! I see you will do for the country. You must never go away, but make up your mind to settle down here."

"That's what I mean to have her do," said Miss Spelman; "and Margaret said she would consider the subject."

Miss Burney's call lasted a full hour; then she enveloped herself in cloak and hood, and shaking Margaret once more warmly by the hand took her departure.

"Who is she, aunt? I think she must be a character, and mean to cultivate her acquaintance."

"Yes, she has a story. Her father--lamb, indeed!" cried Miss Spelman, interrupting herself; "that Norah had better call him 'poor wolf;' to be sure he is reaping the fruits of his misdeeds, but he has richly deserved his troubles. Well, he was a swindler; that is all. His poor wife died of the shame when the biggest of his robberies came to light, and he went steadily down-hill, with this brave daughter trying to keep him straight. He spent one or two poor little legacies she had left her, and at last became the broken-down, imbecile old man he is now. When he was too feeble to prevent her, Martha took him out of the great city where he lived, and they somehow found their way here; and then she went to work and has supported him ever since. She teaches in the public school over in Sealing; she is the head lady teacher now, and with that, and a little she has had left her within a few years, she supports herself and him."

"Is it not a hard life for her?"

"Very, but she prefers obscurity; and that is the best employment she can get here. She is a fine woman, independent and brave, owing no one any thing and taking care of herself. She had a lover once, they say," continued Miss Selina, dropping her voice; "but when it all came to light about her father's transactions, of course she released him."

"And he accepted it?"

"Why, certainly he did, dear Margaret; no man would wish to marry a woman with such a father."

Margaret drummed with her foot on the fender, but made no reply.

"I like Martha Burney's company, and I try to make her come here often; but it is hard to induce her to leave her father. She says she has to be away from him so much of each day, that it is not right to let him pass any more time alone."

"Well, I suppose she would not object to my going to see her."

"She would be delighted to see you. She has all her evenings, and Wednesday and Saturday afternoons. She is very fond of young people."

The Sealing callers do not demand a particular description. There were a few young ladies, none of whom Margaret much liked; she thought them assuming and silly. One of them crowned her other offences by replying to a question of Margaret's about Miss Burney, "Oh! yes, very estimable person, I believe; I do not know her. Were you aware that she teaches in the public school?"

TO BE CONTINUED.

THE IMMUTABILITY OF THE SPECIES.[57]

I.

For a century and a half, the attention of the scientific world has been repeatedly called to theories purporting to prove the evolution of the species. Before the last dozen years, they elicited nothing but deserved contempt from those conversant with the phenomena of which they treat. Their absurdity was transparent, alike in their conclusion and in the processes by which that conclusion was held to have been reached. They were in succession fully refuted. But there arose a class of men, somewhat superior in intellect and ingenuity to the propounders of these speculations, who were imbued with similar atheistic principles. They directed all their efforts toward the conception of a theory more capable than the others of attaining a respectable scientific _status_. It would have been matter of great surprise, then, if this concentration of intellectual energy had not resulted in something sufficiently plausible to startle the world.

In the year 1859, Mr. Charles Darwin, one of the first naturalists of England, propounded his theory of development, in a work termed _The Origin of Species_. This purported to be a full and conclusive confirmation of the hypothesis of evolution. The theory was elaborate and ingenious, and on its appearance was immediately advocated by many men to whom it was not wholly unexpected. Its congruity with their atheistic views can alone furnish an adequate explanation of the haste with which they declared themselves its advocates. This harmony with preconceived ideas was confessedly the chief inducement urging them to accept the theory. Hear Mr. Herbert Spencer's conception of the spirit in which a person should approach the subject: "Before it can be ascertained how organized beings have been gradually evolved, there must be reached the conviction that they _have_ been gradually evolved." The italics are his own. Mr. George Henry Lewes, in an article in the _Fortnightly Review_ for April 1st, 1868, says:

"There can be little doubt that the acceptance or rejection
of Darwinism has, in the vast majority of cases, been wholly
determined by the monistic or dualistic attitude of the mind.
And this explains, what would otherwise be inexplicable, the
surprising fervor and facility with which men, wholly incompetent
to appreciate the evidence for or against natural selection, have
adopted or 'refuted' it."

That Mr. Lewes and other really able men have been so influenced, we entertain not the slightest doubt. But their failure to discover and appreciate the evidence against the theory, we ascribe not to incompetency, but to the bias of a foregone conclusion. We hail with delight the efforts of these men to sustain the theory, confident that, the greater the light thrown upon it, the more glaringly palpable will become its absurdity.

We purpose to show, in this and other articles, that the facts which are seemingly so congruous with the conception of evolution are in reality grossly at variance with it, and strictly in accordance with the doctrine of special creations. We will proceed at once to their consideration.

Variations form the data of Darwin's theory. These, as facts, cannot be disputed. Variation is everywhere seen. Scarcely any species, either animal or vegetable, has escaped this tendency. While some species have not presented differences among their individuals sufficiently marked for the formation of varieties, a multitude of other species display modifications which form the characteristics of dozens of widely distinct breeds. Not less than one hundred and fifty distinct strains and varieties have descended from the original wild pigeon, _columba livia_. All these varieties result from man's careful selection, and his judicious pairing of those individuals which possess the required modifications. This he does in sure reliance on the law of heredity, which transmits to the offspring the most minute peculiarities of the parents, saving, of course, when they are brought into conflict with opposite characters. These variations are both in the direction of increase and in the direction of decrease. Here we find a variety formed by the appearance of a modification not observable in the species under nature, and there a variety formed by the total or partial suppression of one or more characters. Now, few portions of the organization are incapable of modification. Darwin has conclusively shown that even the bones and internal organs have been greatly modified. To realize fully the extent and scope of variation, it is necessary to consult Darwin's late work, _Animals and Plants under Domestication_. Many of the modifications--especially those most widely divergent--constitute differences greater than those which distinguish species from species, and, in some few cases, genus from genus.

It may here be thought that we have made too great concessions; that the logical and inevitable conclusion from the facts, as we state them, is the evolution of the species. Not so. For the more numerous and the more widely divergent the modifications are shown to be, the more easily will we be able to prove to demonstration the fixity of the species.

As these varieties (or incipient species, as Darwin conceives them to be) were formed through the selection by man of slight successive modifications, Darwin affects to believe that variations arose in the wild state; that they were accumulated and preserved by nature by a process analogous to man's selection; and that by the long continued accumulation and conservation, through countless ages, of these modifications, the species have evolved from one another. This selective power of nature he infers from the struggle for existence constantly carried on in the wild state, wherein the weak succumb, and the fittest, strongest, and most vigorous survive, and, according to the theory, attain to a higher development.

Many objections have been urged against Darwin's theory. Some have questioned the efficiency of natural selection; and others have contended that selection necessarily implies a selecter. Some have considered Darwinism sufficiently disproved by the absence of the transitional links between the different species. Others have asserted the inconceivableness of the primordial differentiation of parts in organisms when they all presented the simplest structure. Another argument has been adduced from the tendency of domesticated animals and plants, when neglected, to recur to the ancestral form under nature. Some assume a limit to variation; while others have contended that domestication of itself has introduced something plastic into organisms, enabling them to vary, and that, therefore, the analogy drawn between animals and plants under domestication and those under nature is inadmissible. Others assert that domestic animals and plants have been rendered in an especial manner subservient to the uses and purposes of man. In conformity with this view, they also affirm that the conception of species is, for that reason, not applicable to the creatures under domestication. For ourselves, we concede that the analogy between domesticated and natural animals and plants is a just one, in the light in which the phenomena of variation are generally regarded. For we wholly dissent from the opinion of the introduction by domestication of any thing plastic into organisms, and firmly believe in the operation of secondary causes in the formation of varieties.

These arguments, in the form in which they are adduced, are inconclusive. Their weakness springs from an error into which those who have urged them have fallen, which vitiates at the start all their reasoning. To this error we shall presently advert. But while we cannot concur in their premises, we have something more than an intuition of the truth of their common conclusion.

The facts, of which the _Animals and Plants under Domestication_ is a vast repertory, admit of a theory more conformable than that of Darwin to the phenomena of variation; a theory which fully accounts for the appearance of the profitable modifications under domestication, (confessedly inexplicable on Darwin's theory,) and for the formation of races under nature; a theory admitting of still further variation; and which is at the same time strictly in accordance with the doctrines of special creations and of the immutability of the species. This teleological explanation, of which we conceive the phenomena of variation to be susceptible, we will render amenable to all the canons of scientific research. And in doing so, we will rely for our proofs upon no evidence but that furnished us by noted evolutionists.

The seeming concurrence of all the evidence in favor of Darwinism results from a misconception by all of the true nature of its data. In all the arguments adduced by the advocates of special creation in disproof of Darwin's hypotheses, these variations have been tacitly admitted to arise by evolution. That they have thus arisen seems to be taken for granted. In this admission lies their error. Upon this current conception of varietal evolution rests the whole evolution hypothesis. Upon the validity of this assumption we join issue with Darwin, as we conceive that upon this point the whole question hinges. For it is not a little illogical to concede the evolution of varieties, and to deny the evolution of species. If we can show that this assumption is invalid, the whole evolution fabric will fall.

Darwin tacitly assumes that the existing state of nature is the normal or primordial condition of animals and plants. The difficulty hitherto experienced in confuting his errors springs from acquiescence in this assumption. True it is that Darwin does not believe in the validity of this assumption, but merely makes it to show the inconceivableness of the negation of evolution. With him a species is not fixed but fluctuating, and is merely a subjective conception, having no objective reality. Believing in the converse assumption, we advance the following theory: _That animals and plants have degenerated under nature, and that the favorable modifications arising under domestication are due to reversion to the perfect type_.

Darwin, in treating of variations, refers them indiscriminately to reversion and to evolution. This he does according to no law, rule, method, or formula. The mere circumstance that he has one subject under consideration, suffices to induce him to ascribe to reversion a modification which, in another portion of his work, he, with strange inconsistency, attributes to "spontaneous variability." He affects to deem it a sufficient answer to the ascription of characters to reversion, to appeal to the absence of such characters in the species under nature. If the assumption of degeneration and subsequent favorable reversion can lay even the least claim to tenability, this answer is in no wise satisfactory. If it can be conclusively shown that most, if not all, creatures in a state of nature, are in a degenerated condition, then the irresistible inference will be, in the absence of any other rational explanation, that favorable variations are ascribable to reversion.

While, as Herbert Spencer says, "a comparison of ancient and modern members of the types which have existed from paleozoic and mesozoic times down to the present day shows that the total amount of change (in animals) is not relatively great, and that it is not manifestly toward a higher organization," paleontology furnishes us with many facts showing the great size of ancient mammals, and marked degeneracy in their descendants. Thus, Darwin concurs with Bell, Cuvier, Nilsson, and others in the belief that European cattle--the Continental and Pembroke breeds, and the Chillingham cattle--are the degenerate descendants of the great urus, (_bos primigenius_,) with which they cannot now sustain a comparison, so greatly have they degenerated. Cæsar describes the urus as being not much inferior in size to the elephant. An entire skull of one, found in Perthshire, measures one yard in length, while the span of the horn cores is three feet and six inches, the breadth of the forehead between the horns is ten and a half inches, and from the middle of the occipital ridge to the back of the orbit it is thirteen inches, (_Owen's British Fossil Mammals_, pp. 500, 501, 502.) The common red deer have so greatly undergone degeneration that the fossil remains of their progenitors have been held to be those of a distinct species, (_strongylocerus spelæus_.) An advocate of Darwinism--a writer in the _Edinburgh Review_ for October, 1868--differs with Owen on this point, and holds that the common red deer are their descendants, greatly degenerated. From their antlers it is inferred that they equalled in height the megaceros, whose height to summit of antlers was ten feet four inches, (_Owen's British Foss. Mam._) So marked is the difference in the size of the antlers, says the Edinburgh reviewer, that it would be possible to ascertain approximately the antiquity of a deposit in which they might be found from that fact alone. The horse and the _elephas antiquus_ have also been shown to have decreased in size.

Changes similar to these have been adduced by the advocates of evolution, to show the manner in which species have been formed under nature. But these, we apprehend, imply devolution rather than evolution. They also serve, contend they, as illustrations of the harmony subsisting between the organism and its environment. If by this is meant that the organism responds to every marked change in the environment, we admit the harmony. But if congruity between a perfect physiological state and the changed conditions is implied, we demur. Certain conditions are absolutely essential to the growth of characters and to general perfection. When they are so modified as to entail the diminution or loss of any positive feature, this tells upon the organism. Darwin, noting that the appearance of certain characters was invariably consequent upon the presence of certain conditions, says (in order to avoid any thing like a teleological implication) that we must not thence infer that those or any conditions are absolutely necessary to the growth of any organs or characters. That Darwin errs, and that full physiological perfection cannot exist except where there is full general growth, and full growth of all parts or organs, we shall clearly demonstrate when, in a future article, we treat of the laws of compensation or balancement of growth, of correlation, of crossing, and of close interbreeding. But whether there exists harmony between the organism or not, there is none the less deterioration. And when reversion to the type from which the organism has degenerated takes place under domestication, it is termed evolution.

But those proofs of degeneration and subsequent favorable reversion upon which we chiefly rely are those afforded by Darwin himself. On page 8, Vol. I. of his late work, he says, "Members of a high group might even become, and this apparently has occurred, fitted for simpler conditions of life; and in this case, natural selection would tend to simplify or degrade the organism; for complicated mechanism for simple actions would be useless or even disadvantageous." The efficiency of natural selection in this respect we fully concede.

And again, on page 12, "During the many changes to which, in the course of time, all organic beings have been subjected, certain organs or parts have occasionally become of little use, and ultimately superfluous, and the retention of such parts in a rudimentary and utterly useless condition can, on the descent theory, be simply understood." We heartily concur in this explanation furnished by the descent theory, as we fully believe all that is attributed to the law of hereditary transmission, the particularities of the hypothesis of pangenesis excepted.

Treating of a symmetrical growth, he cites the cases of "wrong fishes," gasteropods or shell-fish, of certain species of bulimus, and many achitinellæ, verucca, and orchids, and infers, from their being as liable to be unequally developed on the one as on the other side, that the capacity for development is present, and that it is due to reversion. "And as a reversal of development occasionally occurs in animals of many kinds, this latent capacity is probably very common." (P. 53, vol. ii.)

On pages 58, 59, and 60 are given cases of "the re-development of wholly or partially aborted organs." The _corydalis tuberosa_ properly has one of its two nectaries colorless, destitute of nectar, and only one half the size of the other. Its pistil is curved toward the perfect nectary, and the hood, formed of the inner petals, slips off the pistil and stamens in one direction alone, so that when a bee sucks the perfect nectary, the stigma and stamens are exposed and rubbed against the insect's body. "Now," says Darwin, "I have examined several flowers of the _corydalis tuberosa_, in which both nectaries were equally developed, and contained nectar; in this we see only the re-development of a partially aborted organ; but with this re-development the pistil becomes straight and the hood slips off in either direction; so that the flowers have acquired the perfect structure, so well adapted for insect agency, of dielytra and its allies. We cannot attribute these coadapted modifications to chance, or to correlated variability; we must attribute them to reversion to a primordial condition of the species." Upon Darwin's hypothesis, all the beautiful, delicate, involved, and harmonious adjustments, coadaptations, relations, and dependencies in organic nature must, at some time, have arisen by evolution. But here he apparently assigns their coadaptation as a reason for not ascribing these modifications to chance, or to correlated variability; as if their evolution were inconceivable. Does this consist with his theory? What difficulty exists against their evolution now, which is not susceptible of being urged with equal if not greater force against their evolution ages ago? Why push the question further back in time? Was the evolution of these modifications less inconceivable then than now? If so, why? In default of an answer, we have no alternative but to conclude that all favorable modifications arise by reversion.

Having given several cases of the "reappearance of organs of which _not a vestige could be detected_," he declares it "difficult to believe that they would have come to full perfection in color, structure, and function unless those organs had, at some former period, passed through a similar course of growth." We surmise that at the moment in which Darwin conceived such a difficulty, his singularly powerful imagination was impaired by over-exercise. We trust that, on the recurrence of such a mental state, he will cease to marvel at us for experiencing a like difficulty in conceiving the evolution of any favorable characters.

After giving the opinion of several naturalists--in which he concurs--"that the common bond of connection between the several foregoing cases is an actual though partial _return_ to the ancient progenitor of the group," he says, "If this view be correct, we must believe that a vast number of characters capable of evolution (!) lie hidden in every organic being." Here Darwin, as if he had demonstrated the tendency to revert too clearly for the tenableness of his theory, asserts that the appearance of these characters, which have been by him attributed to reversion, is attributable to evolution. The inconsistency is manifest. But this may be taken as a type of the whole of Darwinism. For the author, after acquainting us, without the slightest apparent hesitation, with facts showing degeneration to have been little short of universal, declares that he is forced to believe that favorable modifications are due to "spontaneous variability," as they are otherwise inexplicable; seeming to be wholly oblivious of ever having mentioned previous degeneration. This reminds us of another inconsistency of which evolutionists are guilty. They never tire of inveighing against the reference of phenomena to what they term "metaphysical entities," such as "vital power," "inherent tendency," "intrinsic aptitude," etc. But this by no means precludes their use of the same phrases when treating of phenomena which refuse to be moulded into even seeming conformity to their hypotheses. Again, these characters cannot be due to evolution if they are a return to the ancient progenitor of the group; for that implies the possession of a larger number of characters in the progenitor than in its descendants; which directly militates against evolution, which is an advance from the simpler to the more complex. But Darwinism is in part but an ingeniously disguised and elaborate revival of the idea of Geoffroy St. Hilaire. He conceived "that what we call species are various degenerations of the same type." Races under nature are, upon our theory, caused by degeneration; they are various degenerations of a specific type. Observing that races were thus caused, Geoffroy St. Hilaire, we apprehend, instituted an analogy between races and species, and inferred from the former being various degenerations of a specific type, that the latter were the various degenerations of a generic (or a still higher) type. He was also induced thus to conclude by the fact that characters, which were held in common by all the species of a genus, were in some species in a rudimentary state. But the sterility of hybrids precludes the possibility of this common origin of the species. In so far as this hypothesis relates to species, Darwin adopts it. The fact that races have been similarly caused, he ignores, as that is grossly at variance with his hypothesis of evolution, which lays claim to plausibility only in the absence of any rational explanation of the appearance of favorable modifications under domestication. Were races confessed to be the degenerations of a specific type, then it would be apparent to the capacity of a boy that the appearance of characters under domestication was due to reversion. Had not Darwin accepted the idea of St. Hilaire, his theory would be devoid of its present semblance of unity and coherency. Having started out to prove the common origin of the species _by evolution_, he preserves the appearance of consistency in his illustrations by assuming an identical conclusion, but one arrived at, as he unwittingly shows, _by postulating degeneration_. This furnishes him with a seeming confirmation of his theory; but as these hypotheses of degeneration and evolution are wholly incongruous, the vain endeavor to blend them harmoniously involves him in many inconsistencies and absurdities. Thus, in endeavoring to prove community of origin of the species, he, in conformity with the conception of degeneration, accounts for the appearance of characters by reversion, and then, apprehensive that this attribution would be wholly subversive of his theory of development, ends by inconsistently and gratuitously terming them instances of evolution. The expressions quoted above illustrate this. He has shown that the modifications are due to a _return_ to the ancient progenitor of the group, and then says, "If this view be correct, we must believe that a vast number of characters _capable of evolution_ (!) lie hidden in every organic being." Many other instances of this inconsistency could be given, but the following will, we trust, suffice. After adducing cases of bud variation, he says, "When we reflect on these facts, we become deeply impressed with the conviction that, in such cases, the nature of the variation depends but little on the conditions to which the plant has been exposed, and not in any especial manner on its individual character, but much more on the general nature or condition, inherited from some remote progenitor of the whole group of allied beings to which the plant belongs." Mark the consistency. The appearance of nectarines on peach-trees by bud variation is here ascribed to reversion, while in numerous other places it is adduced as one of the most striking instances of evolution. He has cited the cases of bud variation as instances of evolution, to prove community of origin of the species, and then assumes the community of origin of the species to account _by reversion_ for the appearance of nectarines and all bud variations. But Darwin may go on involving himself in a succession of absurdities, in the just confidence that, however gross they may be, they will not be observable so long as his opponents admit the evolution of varieties.

On page 265, he declares it "impossible in most cases to distinguish between the reappearance of ancient, and the first appearance of new characters." This of course implies that some characters arise by evolution. Now, how are we to discriminate between those arising by reversion and those arising by evolution? What is the distinguishing characteristic of the latter? Darwin has failed to inform us. We deny evolution in any case--"sport," strain, race, variety, or species. Darwin takes it for granted in the cases of "sport," strain, and variety, after having shown degeneration to have been almost universal. He professes to believe that these are due to evolution. What is evolution? Is it not "a name for a hypothetical property which as much needs explanation as that which it is used to explain"? Whence results this belief in evolution? From intuition? This knowledge of the existence of such a potent factor is doubtless very enviable, especially when it is possessed by able scientists. But--to follow a train of thought pursued in another connection--it needs some guarantee of its genuineness. For the first impulse of a scientific scepticism is to inquire by what means these scientists have acquired such a knowledge of the cause of variations. If it was gained from a study of nature, then it must be amenable to all the canons of scientific research; and these assure us that the appearance of favorable modifications is wholly inexplicable except upon the hypothesis of reversion, and that evolution is merely a name for a cause of which we are presumed to be ignorant. In science an explanation is the reduction of phenomena to a series of known conditions, thus bringing what was unknown within the circle of the known. Does the hypothesis of evolution fulfil this requirement? Has it not been confessed that "spontaneous variability," or evolution, stands in the place of ignorance? Is not the ascription of characters to evolution a "shaping of ignorance into the semblance of knowledge"? Has not Darwin shown that such it is, when he frankly acknowledges his ignorance of the cause of the appearance of favorable modifications, and when he attributes them to "an innate spontaneous tendency"? Of what validity, then, can an hypothesis be, when the assumption upon which it is grounded is, confessedly, wholly gratuitous? Before it can be entitled to a hearing in a scientific court of inquiry, it is necessary that it furnish some warrant for assuming evolution. We rely with the most implicit confidence upon Mr. G. H. Lewes concurring with us in deeming this requisite.

On page 350, Darwin says, "Many sub-varieties of the pigeon have reversed and somewhat lengthened feathers on the back of their heads, and this is certainly not due to the species under nature, which shows no trace of such a structure; but when we remember that sub-varieties of the fowl, the turkey, the canary-bird, duck, and goose all have top-knots or reversed feathers on their heads, and when we remember that scarcely a single natural group of birds can be named in which some members have not a tuft of feathers on their heads, we may suspect that reversion to some extremely remote form has come into action." A high development of the "extremely remote form," together with degeneration under nature and subsequent favorable reversion, is here manifestly implied.

On page 247, the tendency to prolification is ascribed to reversion to a former condition.

"With domesticated animals," says Darwin, on page 353, "the reduction of a part from disuse is never carried so far that a mere rudiment is left, but we have good reason to believe that this has often occurred under nature."

Speaking of the gradual increase in size of our domesticated animals, he says, "This fact is all the more striking, as certain wild or half-wild animals, such as red deer, aurochs, park-cattle, and boars, have, within nearly the same period, decreased in size." (P. 427.)

On page 61, Vol. II., he says, "It is probable that hardly a change of any kind affects either parent without some mark being left on the germ. But on the doctrine of reversion, as given in this chapter, the germ becomes a far more marvellous object; for besides the visible changes to which it is subjected, we must believe that it is crowded with invisible characters, proper to both sexes, to both the right and left side of the body, and to a long line of male and female ancestors, separated by hundreds or even thousands of generations from the present time; and these characters, like those written on paper with invisible ink, all lie ready to be evolved (!!!) under certain known or unknown conditions." If this is the case, is not the scope of reversion sufficiently wide to cover every favorable modification which has arisen, or may arise, under domestication?

But these extracts from Darwin's _Animals and Plants under Domestication_, strongly confirmatory as they are of our hypothesis, ill sustain a comparison with the last we shall adduce. Fuller concession no one could reasonably desire.

"With species in a state of nature," says Darwin, on page 317, "rudimentary organs are so extremely common _that scarcely one can be mentioned_ which is wholly free from a blemish of this nature." Stronger confirmation of our hypothesis, short of a full and unequivocal confession of its validity, we are utterly unable to conceive. Are we not, after this, justified in ascribing to reversion every favorable modification which has arisen or may arise?

Having thus furnished full warrant for assuming degeneration and subsequent favorable reversion, and for alleging the complete gratuitousness of the converse assumption of evolution, let us turn our attention to the grand principle of natural selection.

It is scarcely possible to read Darwin's graphic description of the struggle for existence among animals and plants, and not marvel at their survival. Creatures under nature are subjected to the greatest vicissitudes of climate. Thousands are born into the world with delicate constitutions, inherited from their progenitors. These enter into competition with their fellows for the means of subsistence; and although they eventually succumb, they have, during their short lives, by this competition, induced the deterioration of their stronger companions. All without exception have to struggle, from the hour of their birth to the hour of their death, for existence. Natural extinction carries off those whose impaired constitutions are inconsistent with prolonged existence. Consequent upon natural extinction is the survival of the fittest and strongest. Darwin avers that the weaker portion of the species having been carried off by natural extinction, the next generation, having been derived only from the stronger portion of the race, will be of a still stronger constitution. This is not the case. Natural extinction does not arbitrarily carry off the weak, but merely those whose extremely impaired constitutions are incompatible with life. Many survive between which and the conditions there is little compatibility. And even the offspring of those which are the strongest are subjected in their turn to the same if not worse conditions, and to the same if not severer competition; for the probability is, that the increase in the number of animals and plants has been great. Thus degeneration is ever active. If the climate fails to entail deterioration, and becomes favorable, the same result is produced by the severe competition consequent upon "an astonishingly rapid increase in numbers."

Darwin implies that natural selection is something more than the correlative of natural extinction. That it is, he has not shown. All the facts show that the one is merely the correlative of the other. The semblance of the converse being the case is given, we conceive, by the constant use, when speaking of those preserved by natural selection, of the superlative, as strongest, fittest, most vigorous. Under nature, unfavorable modifications are ever arising, and those animals and plants which possess them in a marked degree are carried off by natural extinction. Natural selection, in its turn, operates merely by the preservation of those organisms which have undergone little or no modification. The two factors are only different aspects of the same process. One necessitates the other. More than this, natural selection is not. That it acts by the preservation of successive favorable modifications, Darwin has signally failed to adduce a single instance to prove. Instances of adaptation he has adduced, but they are invariably, except where man has intervened, those of degeneration. A description of the process of natural selection is always accompanied with an account of the incessant war waging throughout nature, resulting in natural extinction. Following this is natural selection, preserving the fitter, stronger, and more vigorous. Now, a tolerably clear conception of our view may be gained by considering that, although those preserved may be the fitter, stronger, and more vigorous, in comparison with their brothers or contemporaries, they may be--and the vast majority of the instances adduced by Darwin show this to be the case--less fit, less strong, and less vigorous than their progenitors. Those instances adduced which do not imply this, show no advance on the progenitors, but merely a struggle against degeneration and a continuance in the same state. For animals and plants under nature can scarcely hold their own. Many of them are reduced to the lowest condition compatible with life. If they do not remain stationary, their movement is in the direction of degeneration. Does not Darwin's assertion, before adverted to, that rudimentary organs are so extremely common that scarcely a single species can be mentioned which does not possess such a blemish, imply the preëxistence of conditions sufficiently adverse to entail unfavorable changes in almost every point or character in an organism? It is not a little amusing to see that, in numbers of the exemplifications of the process of natural selection given by Darwin, the animals and plants are subjected to extreme vicissitudes of climate, the severest competition, and other unfavorably modifying influences, and although deterioration is acknowledged to result, and it is manifest that all are unfavorably modified, he invariably concludes with the assertion that the strongest and most vigorous survive. This assertion is true in one sense, but is false when viewed with reference to the inference intended to be drawn. It will be seen that the more correct assertion would be, those survive which have undergone less modification or none.

But independently of these considerations; even upon the supposition that natural selection was equally powerful with man's selection in the formation of varieties or races, that as strongly pronounced and as widely divergent modifications as those observable under domestication had arisen under nature, the efficiency of natural selection is a matter of no moment. For the argument therefrom begs the whole question. It takes for granted the whole point really in controversy. It assumes that those modifications which may arise, or which have arisen, are due to evolution. It is not in the least inconsistent with our views that favorable varieties or races should arise under nature. As a matter of fact, we deny their ever having arisen. But we are not by this denial estopped from believing it possible for them to arise in the future. For were the conditions to change, and to become as favorable as those to which animals and plants are subjected under domestication, races would then arise. They would probably be fewer in number, but a nearer approach to perfection could be attained, the conditions admitting; for man's improvement of the animals and plants under his care is retarded, owing to his not being as yet perfectly conversant with the conditions requisite for their full development. But the modifications which may arise under nature will be due to reversion. The improvement of natural species will imply their previous degeneration. Darwin conceives variations to arise by evolution, and concession of this is essential to the validity of his argument. The question then recurs, Are the favorable modifications which have arisen, or which may arise, due to evolution or to reversion? Until this point is settled in favor of the ascription to evolution, Darwin's argument from natural selection is wholly irrelevant.

An illustration may perhaps conduce to a clearer conception of the relation in which the theories of evolution and reversion stand to each other. The following will, we believe, fully serve this purpose.

Conceive a glass tube, bent into the shape of the letter V, of which the left leg alone is clearly visible. In this, water is seen slowly ascending by a succession of apparently spontaneous impulses. "Now," argue a certain class of philosophers, "this is a peculiar case. The water here manifestly does not acknowledge the law of gravitation. It must, then, conform to a law _sui generis_; a law of which we are wholly ignorant; a law which transcends the scope of our intelligence. This law, be it what it may, we will term evolution. Now, as this name, given arbitrarily, is the only explanation of which the singular ascent of the water will admit, we are forced to conclude that the water will, if similarly confined above as here below, continue to rise for ever. Any theory other than this is inconceivable. The assumption of a limit to the ascent of the water is manifestly wholly gratuitous. What evidence is there to induce the belief that there exists such a limit?" But would not the calculations of these philosophers be signally confounded by the removal of the covering of the right leg of the tube, disclosing the downward course of the water from a certain height? The analogy, we presume, is clear to all. The ascent of the water in the left leg answers to the appearance of the profitable modifications under domestication, the apex of the tube to the existing state of nature, and the descent of the water in the right leg answers to degeneration under nature; while the height from which the water has descended in the right leg, and to which in the left leg it is ascending in conformity to the rule that water always seeks its own level, in like manner answers to the perfect type of the species from which the animal or plant has degenerated, and to which it is reverting.

But, even assuming that the argument from the gratuitousness of the assumption of varietal evolution, together with that from the explanation afforded by the theory of reversion, is inconclusive, there is yet another which may be adduced.

Darwin's theory is condemned by its advocates. For it is one of a class of theories which, they contend, are not entitled to any consideration or hearing in a scientific court of inquiry. Doubtless many of our readers, at least those conversant with science, have spent many a pleasant hour perusing numerous well-written pages filled with protests against the ascription of phenomena to such entities as "plastic force," "vital power," "intrinsic aptitude," "inherent tendency," etc. This attribution is one of the stock objections against every thing which does not tally with the ideas current among positivists. The advocates of Darwin, of whom most, if not all, are followers of Comte, wax eloquent and enthusiastic while on this theme. Here they disport themselves after the manner of men conscious of having alighted on a subject highly calculated to call forth their most happy thoughts. Here their rhetoric is consummate, and their turns of expression singularly felicitous. Their affected indignation at the assumed absurdity of thus accounting for phenomena knows no bounds. So thrilling is this tirade, and so perfect the simulation of honest indignation, that we, though of a somewhat cold temperament, have, through sympathy, often caught and retained for a moment the infection of enthusiasm. When our feelings ceased to have full sway, and when our reason returned, we were in a fit state to appreciate fully the great power of eloquence.

After animadverting thus severely on this ascription of phenomena, it was not to be expected that these positivists would be guilty of the inconsistency of advocating a theory the basis of which was one of these "metaphysical entities." Very little credence, we are sure, would be given to the assertion that the foundation of Darwin's theory was an occult quality. For that theory has again and again been held up to the world as a shining sample of what can be effected in science by conformity to the positive process of discovery. Yet such is the case. Darwin, on page 2, Vol. I. of his late work, says, "If organic beings had not possessed _an inherent tendency to vary_, man could have done nothing." In numerous other portions of his work may be found the reference of variations to "an innate spontaneous tendency," (p. 362, Vol. I.,) to "spontaneous or accidental variability," (p. 248. Vol. II.,) to the "nature or constitution of the being which varies," (p. 289, Vol. II.,) and to "other metaphysical entities." So frequent is the recurrence of these expressions that it is scarcely possible to open any portion of his work and not alight on one. The whole of Darwin's theory is deduced from this occult quality in animals and plants. And this is a theory advocated by G. H. Lewes, and a number of others who have given in their adhesion to positivism! If this explanation is, as they claim, unphilosophical, are they not bound to withdraw their support from such a theory? Does not their present position argue a total want of consistency? Which is the more entitled to support, even from their own professed stand-point, a theory which refers favorable variations to an innate tendency in organisms, or that which ascribes variations to reversion? No; as any other view would be incompatible with the success of their darling theory, they are perfectly content to consider variation as an ultimate law, even though such a consideration involves a gross inconsistency. Regardless of this, they advance the theory, and, when engaged on a collateral point, marvel at their opponents for doing that which they have done at the start, and complacently extol the clearness of their own views, which have been arrived at by the aid of an hypothesis based upon the same occult quality against which they are now exhausting all their eloquence.

The truth is, that these "metaphysical entities" are in almost as frequent use among positivists as among their adversaries. They are, perhaps, more ingeniously disguised. But a close examination of their speculations will elicit the fact that they are guilty of the same (alleged) absurdity, and on a point, as in the present instance, most materially affecting their whole theory. But these explanations are denounced as metaphysical merely to facilitate the reception of their finely spun theories. The dawn of science in any department of knowledge is invariably preceded by a mist. This acts as a false medium, through which the subjects of science are dimly seen, presenting a most monstrous aspect. This is rendered still more distorted by the ingenious but absurd theories of men bent upon tracing a want of harmony between science and religion. Their hypotheses, at first sight, apparently preclude the need of these phrases, but they are at last necessitated to use them in accounting for phenomena of which the ascription to known factors would be grossly at variance with their views. The use of these entities is in some cases only provisional with us, to be abandoned on the advent of true knowledge; for religion does not shun the light of true science. In this transitional period between complete ignorance and full knowledge, these speculative theories are propounded. They purport to furnish an explanation of all phenomena, and to dispense with the necessity of using "metaphysical entities." Their adoption is necessitated, contend their propounders, if the converse theories are conceded to be unscientific. This we deny, and appeal to the existing low condition of scientific knowledge, which precludes for a time the possibility of the formation of any well-founded theory. This theory of evolution, for instance, is confessedly founded on ignorance--ignorance of the law to which its data conform. But when science advances, and when facts are exposed to the clear sunlight of precise and impartial investigation, perfect harmony is observable between science and religion; and the absurdity of the theories which were urged for our adoption becomes manifest. Past experience justifies our belief that such will ever be the case. For it is only those departments of knowledge which are abandoned to speculation which present facts seemingly at variance with religion. We refuse to accept the alternatives which they offer, confident that, as they are at variance with religion, they are not the legitimate products of true science.

Races under nature have been formed exclusively by degeneration. By this we do not wish to imply any innate tendency in organisms to degenerate. The degeneration of which we speak is solely induced by the direct and indirect action of the conditions of life. Upon assuming certain conditions necessary to full growth, the formation of natural races becomes deductively explicable. It is with regret that we observe a disposition on the part of some of the advocates of special creation to believe growth independent of the conditions. The dependence of growth upon the conditions cannot be disputed. Nor do we wish to dispute it; for it is, to our mind, strong confirmation of the doctrine of final causes. The supporters of the evolution hypothesis maintain that an organism has the capacity for adapting itself to any conditions, so that they are not so marked and sudden as to entail extinction. We acquiesce in this thus far--where the conditions are favorable, improvement ensues. But with us improvement implies previous degeneration. And when the conditions are adverse, a change for the worse results in proportion to the change in the conditions. Such adaptation as this we admit. But we fancy Darwin would consider this too teleological to be a concession. Adaptation, with him, implies harmony. This harmony we will not gainsay. But if the conditions induce the total or partial suppression of any part or character, we contend that this adaptation of the organism to the conditions is not consistent with complete physiological integrity. The departure from a state of integrity is directly proportioned to the retardation of growth of either the organism as a whole, or of only one or more of its organs or characters. This repression is the criterion by which to judge of the adverseness of the conditions. For our belief in this incompatibility between full integrity and conditions which entail the loss or diminution of any part, character, feature, or organ, we will, in a future article, furnish full warrant.

Starting out, then, with perfect specific types, we will be able to account for the formation of races without the aid of an equivocal process, without postulating any occult quality, and by means in every way analogous to those which, as Darwin has shown, play an important part in inducing modification.